


and they called it puppy love

by bubblegumcherrypop



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cuddling, First Kiss, Fluff With No Plot, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sakusa is so in love, relationship study? kinda. not really., sakukomo week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumcherrypop/pseuds/bubblegumcherrypop
Summary: Motoya snored like a puppy. Something in Kiyoomi’s chest fluttered.Ah. He’d never felt that before.Kiyoomi turned to look up at Motoya’s sleeping face, cheek squished against the pillow and hair sprawled all over. The fluttering felt nice, almost. He wanted to hold Motoya’s hand.- sakukomo week day one: childhood, firsts, ‘ties that bind’ (...kinda)
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	and they called it puppy love

**Author's Note:**

> If you don’t like romantic sakukomo idk what to say, press the back button and go take a walk to forget this exists

Kiyoomi remembers;

He remembers the warmth. Clammy palms, small hands. Motoya’s small, clammy hand was warm in his own as he’d dragged Kiyoomi out of his mothers car. Kiyoomi remembers uncertainty and feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of joining Motoya’s volleyball class - they weren’t very close, and Motoya likely had other friends. Motoya’s dad had made him promise to stick with Kiyoomi, but he was still apprehensive. 

But as Motoya used his free hand to push open the gym doors and the scent of wooden floors and rubber hit Kiyoomi smack-bang, the overwhelming emotions he felt seemed to ring numb, even if only for a moment until Motoya was yanking him inside. 

  
  


To Kiyoomi, volleyball was that sensation. Everything stilling for yet a moment, then two and three then practice and training, set and match; It was the scent of rubber and it was Motoya’s hand. Motoya’s small, clammy hand leading them with as much gusto as a nine-year-old could muster.

Looking back, that was the first time Motoya held his hand. Kiyoomi still remembers his face that day, too. All wide eyed, wide-smiles, flushed and round cheeks. And it wasn’t the last time that Motoya would grab his hand and lead Kiyoomi to a new world - you could say. Time and time again, Motoya would take Kiyoomi’s hand and whisk him away. All Kiyoomi could ever do was let him. 

He treasured that part of his childhood, stored it in an open box in the back of his brain clearly labelled  _ motoya.  _

It was because there were two parts of Kiyoomi’s life. Before Motoya, and volleyball. Because ever since Motoya took his hand and whisked him up into that world Motoya simply  _ was  _ volleyball. Every sensation Kiyoomi got from the sport led back to Motoya behind him, like something had tied them together at the first collision. 

A tie, too, when Motoya took Kiyoomi’s hand and led him into his room - still nine years old. Kiyoomi took a look at the various toys and plushies and jigsaw boxes and had sparkles in his eyes. It was the first time he’d been in a friend’s room, the first time he’d been able to properly play with another boy his age. Kiyoomi had other friends at school, sure, but they weren’t  _ safe _ . Not safe like Motoya. Kiyoomi had picked up an unopened jigsaw from the corner of the room and turned back to Motoya, lips parted, silently asking.

Motoya beamed and told Kiyoomi he hadn’t attempted it yet, he was saving it for when he came to visit. 

  
  
  


And when they were ten years old, again, Motoya invited Kiyoomi around to his house. But this time to stay the night. Kiyoomi was apprehensive, but the binding connecting him to Motoya was so  _ safe  _ all anxiety faded upon arrival and seeing Motoya beam at him as he opened the front door. Kiyoomi had never stayed the night at somebody else’s home, another first. Kiyoomi slept on a futon next to Motoya’s bed. To his own surprise, Kiyoomi was content. 

Motoya snored like a puppy. Something in Kiyoomi’s chest fluttered.

Ah. He’d never felt that before. 

Kiyoomi turned to look up at Motoya’s sleeping face, cheek squished against the pillow and hair sprawled all over. The fluttering felt nice, almost. He wanted to hold Motoya’s hand. 

Yet another new feeling from being led by Motoya. Kiyoomi fell asleep.

  
  
  


It’d continued just like that, at least once a fortnight. Motoya’s house was so warm and welcoming and after a while Kiyoomi almost thought of it as his own. The Komori’s adored Kiyoomi, always making sure he knew he could be comfortable there and visit anytime. Hana-chan was the cutest dog Kiyoomi had ever seen, he enjoyed playing with her whenever he visited, too.

Kiyoomi was eleven when he first sat on Motoya’s bed. It was warm with multiple blankets sprawled on it disorderly, and his duvet was thick and his mattress soft, one you’d sink into. 

They’d linked up their nintendo DS’s and played mario kart. It was fun. 

  
  
  


Kiyoomi was fourteen when he first slept in Motoya’a bed. They were both watching a movie, lower halves tucked under the duvet. It wasn’t even intentional, that first time. Kiyoomi had completely dozed off after flopping down onto a pillow and conking out. He’d awoken to Motoya’s forehead against his shoulder and their hands interlocked. Promptly, he’d let himself fall back to sleep. 

After that night, ‘Kiyoomi’s’ futon started picking up dust in the closet since Kiyoomi started sleeping in Motoya’s bed whenever he stayed around. Sometimes they’d fall asleep in each other's arms and wake up that way, sometimes they’d wake up not even touching. Being next to each other was enough, but Kiyoomi couldn’t help but want to wrap his arms around Motoya’s waist and squeeze him like a teddy bear.

Was he being needy?

No, that wasn’t even a question. He  _ was  _ and Motoya made him this way. Perhaps it was because of the safety Motoya emitted, or that for once in his life Kiyoomi felt wanted, he had a place he fit into like a jigsaw piece and he just could never get enough. All Kiyoomi wanted was to hug Motoya till he popped, to drink in all his touch, to map the expanse of his skin under his fingers, to run his hands through Motoya’s hair. To absorb everything  _ Motoya _ till he had his fill until, at least, they’d see each other again and another dose would be needed to fill the next void. 

  
  


But Kiyoomi’s hunger would grow deeper with anything Motoya gave him. And it was strange, almost simultaneous how Motoya’s touchiness would increase alongside Kiyoomi’s  _ want  _ for it, for more. 

He supposed it was only natural it’d build up to a tipping point as Motoya had taken his hand, age fourteen, and led him into his room again. Only this time, under covers, Motoya had kissed him. 

Kiyoomi turned to putty at the newfound sensation, face red at the heat of the duvet and Motoya’s closeness. He was almost surprised about how he didn’t find the action of kissing  _ gross _ , but it was just so soft and warm and Motoya was  _ magnetic _ . 

They kissed a lot, that night. 

All lips, no tongue. A little clumsy, but they got the hang of it quick. They got their fill and passed out to sleep promptly. 

  
  
  


And of course, it carried on and carried on. It started off only in the confines of Motoya’s room. Then in the kitchen when it was only the two of them, and on the sofa and half way up the stairs when they couldn’t wait a minute longer to swap spit like in some dumb romantic comedy. A while later, it was the changing rooms and showers after everybody had left. A vacant street corner. 

Lips pressing against each other turned to tongues and saliva and  _ more saliva _ , hands started roaming and Kiyoomi had his first sexual dream resulting in waking up with an uncomfortable feeling in his shorts at the age of fifteen - the image of what wonders Motoya’s hand could perform apart from lead Kiyoomi. 

  
  


Intimacy and physical affection just felt so natural with Motoya, like falling into the softest bed. All safe and warm, and the universe made sure that by now, Kiyoomi knew that whatever he felt or wanted - Motoya would reciprocate. 

  
  


It was when they were sixteen that Motoya, hand in Kiyoomi’s, led him into his room again. But the air was different, startlingly so. 

Clothes were shed, briefs following suit and Kiyoomi came with his head in the crook of Motoya’s neck, legs shaking as they clenched around his waist and blunt nails dug into Motoya’s shoulder blades. 

  
  
  


It was the morning after, when they lay in bed together, and Kiyoomi’s eyes had just opened. They were heavy, and all they saw was his own hair and familiar tanned skin. He pulled his head out from Motoya’s chest to lean back, observe him. Almost like years ago, but instead of laying on the futon below Kiyoomi was in his arms. Motoya’s bedhead was still disastrous, puppy-like snores still gentle. 

It was then when Kiyoomi started thinking. He loosely intertwined his fingers with Motoya’s limp ones as he slept. First kiss, first time, uncountable other first experiences. 

_ What the hell do you even call this? _

Kiyoomi had never stopped to question it, as falling into  _ this  _ and  _ deeper  _ with Motoya just felt so right, it was reciprocated, and they took all they needed from each other whilst also giving their all. The feeling was there, so Kiyoomi chased it and chased it - realising halfway that he was being gently tugged by whatever tied him to Motoya - blissfully ignorant to  _ words  _ and dancing in the  _ feeling.  _

  
  


He must’ve been thinking too loud. Motoya stirred, eyes creaking open. They promptly closed upon Seeing Kiyoomi, and tugged him again into his arms, half mumbling and half groaning in exhaustion, sighing contently once he felt Kiyoomi’s curly hair against his chin. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

It was useless to stall or beat around the bush. 

“What are-“

Interrupted. “What d’ya wanna be?”

…

  
  


“More,” Kiyoomi offered, small.

Motoya laughed. “More than what? We’ve crossed all the bases, Kiyo.”

“You know what I mean.”

Motoya hummed. “Well, I love you, that’s a start.” 

His breathing heavying and head nuzzling into Kiyoomi signalled that Motoya was falling back asleep, his voice was laced with tiredness and sounded like chocolate. 

Kiyoomi released whatever tension was in his body, going completely lax and burying his head into Motoya. “I love you too.”

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments only on moderation again to ward off antis please don’t be intimidated LMAO 
> 
> i hope u enjoyed!! I’m not much of a writer lol
> 
> [twt!](https://twitter.com/cowgomoomoo)


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